March 12, 2012
In punchy chapters that cover a fairly uneventful life in the southern Republican regions, blogger Lawson achieves an exaggerated sarcasm that occasionally attains a belly laugh from the reader (“I grew up a poor black girl in New York. Except replace ’black’ with ’white’ and ’New York’ with ’rural Texas’ ”), but mostly descends into rants about bodily functions and dead animals spiced with profanity. The daughter of a taxidermist whose avid foraging and hunting filled their “violently rural” Wall, Tex., house with motley creatures like raccoons and turkeys and later triggered some anxiety disorder, Lawson did not transcend her childhood horrors so much as return to them, marrying at age 22 a fellow student at a local San Angelo college, Victor, and settling down in the town with a job in “HR” while Victor worked “in computers.” In random anecdotal segments Lawson treats the vicissitudes of her 15-year marriage, the birth of daughter Hailey after many miscarriages, some funny insider secrets from the HR office, and an attempt to learn to trust women by spending a weekend in California wine country with a group of bloggers. With little substantive writing on these subjects, however, Lawson’s puerile sniggering and potty mouth gets old fast. Agent: Neeti Madan, Sterling Lord.

April 1, 2012
A mostly funny, irreverent memoir on the foibles of growing up weird. In blogger Lawson's debut book, "The Bloggess" (thebloggess.com) relies entirely on her life stories to drive an unconventional narrative. While marketed as nonfiction, it's a genre distinction the author employs loosely (a point made clear in the book's subtitle). On the opening page she defends the subtitle, explaining, "The reason this memoir is only mostly true instead of totally true is that I relish not getting sued." Yet Lawson also relishes exaggerative storytelling, spinning yarns of her childhood and early adulthood that seem so unbelievable they could hardly be made up. Nearly every line is an opportunity for a punch line--"Call me Ishmael. I won't answer to it, because it's not my name, but it's much more agreeable that most of the things I've been called"; "And that's how I ended up shoulder-deep in a cow's vagina"; "there's nothing more romantic than a proposal that ends with you needing a tetanus shot"--and while the jokes eventually wear thin, by that point readers will be invested in Lawson herself, not just her ability to tell a joke. The author's use of disclaimers, editorial notes and strike-thrus leaves the book feeling oddly unfinished, though it's a calculated risk that serves well as an inside joke shared between writer and reader at the expense of the literary elite. While Lawson fails to strike the perfect balance between pathos and punch line, she creates a comic character that readers will engage with in shocked dismay as they gratefully turn the pages.

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November 1, 2011

She's famed on the Internet as the Bloggess ("like Mother Teresa, only better") and also writes an (I hope) tongue-in-check parenting column and a self-styled satirical sex column that must be sizzly because my office computer denies me access. Here, Lawson revisits her rural Texas childhood. With lots of media attention expected and comparisons to Chelsea Handler, this book is one to watch.

Copyright 2011 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

April 1, 2012
In this mordant memoir, Lawson, who calls herself The Bloggess, displays the wit that's made her a hit on the Web. She makes hilarious hay out of her rural Texas upbringing, during which her taxidermist father thought nothing of bringing feral creatures into the house (on her future husband Victor's first visit to meet the family, dear old Dad tossed a baby bobcat into the unsuspecting lad's lap). Plagued by anxiety attacks, Lawson is loath to go out in public, and when she does, she inevitably makes a scene. At a Halloween party, she regales guests with a tale of being attacked by a serial killer (turns out it was just her corpulent cat). Lawson, whose award-winning website, TheBloggess.com, averages more than half-a-million page-views per month, delivers some mild moments among the mayhem. At a women's retreat replete with bonding and wine, she happily discovers that girls really aren't so bad. Lawson is funny, but her over-the-top tales eventually take their toll, prompting jaded readers to wonder how much of this stuff she's making up.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2012, American Library Association.)

Starred review from May 28, 2012
In this sarcastic and sidesplitting memoir, blogger and journalist Jenny Lawson—famous for her persona, the Bloggess—describes her childhood in Wall, Tex., her experiences with marriage and motherhood, and how she became a mature adult (sort of). Lawson fans will love listening to the author recounting her life in her own voice, from getting her arm stuck up a cow’s vagina to her first acid trip and misinterpretation of her husband’s marriage proposal as a murder attempt. Listeners unfamiliar with Lawson’s style may grow tired of her profanity and, at times, over-the-top attempts at derisive humor, but even her biggest critics will find themselves giggling when her taxidermist father throws a bobcat into her future husband’s lap. From the start (and the title), Lawson admits to embellishing details of her life, but her West Texas accent adds a sweet authenticity to her tall tales. She also touches on serious topics, such as her series of miscarriages and severe anxiety disorder, softening her delivery to fit the material. And Lawson knows her material so well that her performance seems more like a standup than traditional narration, making this audiobook both entertaining and engaging. A Putnam/Amy Einhorn hardcover.